


Pressure

by mhunter10



Series: Neathe [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Ice Skating, M/M, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey and Neathe watch Yev skate





	

“Why didn’t you tell me he was a figure skater?” Neathe asked, still shivering slightly next to Mickey on the side of the rink.

“Didn’t come up,” Mickey shrugged, keeping his eyes on his son as he practiced a jump. His body tensed up and his heart seemed to stop when he left the ice for a whole two seconds. He was a little wobbly on the landing, but he hadn’t broken anything or cracked his skull. Mickey let out his breath slowly.

“Wow! That was great! He’s really good, Mickey,” Neathe clapped his frozen hands.

Mickey smiled proudly and nodded. “He is. I would’ve never thought, though. Kid trips on air sometimes,” he chuckled. Yevgeny blurred into a spin, then struck his finishing pose. He skated over to them, breathing hard. Mickey handed him his water bottle.

“I almost got it. Did you see?” he asked, once he’d finished drinking.

“I saw,” Mickey pulled his hat over his eyes playfully. “The ice was uneven.”

Yev smacked his hand away. “You can’t blame the ice every time I screw up, dad.”

“Worked that one time,” Mickey grinned.

“You’re amazing out there,” Neathe chimed in. He had his arms wrapped around himself and his collar up.

Yevgeny beamed, awkwardly wiping sweat from his face. His dad gave the other man a look of subtle awe. “Thanks, Neathe.”

“How’d you get into this?” he asked.

“My mom. She’s Russian. I know, sounds stereotypical, but she always dreamed of being a skater. She took me to a show when I was four and I loved it,” Yev answered, then added, “And she’ll kill me if I don’t get into the olympics with a name like Yevgeny Milkovich.”

Neathe chuckled, “I don’t think she has to worry about that. You’re amazing.” He shivered and held himself tighter. The boy ducked his head to the compliment just like his father.

Mickey suddenly wrapped an arm around Neathe and brought him to his side, rubbing his arm. He shook his head and laughed, “I told you to dress warm, didn’t I?”

Neathe laughed, ducking his head under Mickey’s chin. He breathed into his hands. “I thought I did. I feel like those penguins we saw at the zoo.”

“Yeah, except they actually like the cold,” Mickey said.

Neathe scoffed, winking at Yev. “I bet you they don’t.”

“They fucking love it,” Mickey teased him, pinching his red nose with his gloved fingers. “They get to get real close and personal.” He shoved Neathe’s head inside his coat, holding him in there as he struggled. “Warm enough? Huh?” he laughed, before letting him go. Neathe shoved him playfully, grinning.

“I rest my case,” he laughed, straightening his sweatshirt.

“Don’t get your feathers in a bunch,” Mickey pulled him close again, fixing his hair and planting a kiss on his head.

Yev grinned at the two men, moving his skates back and forth to keep his legs warm. “Anyway, you guys can stay huddled together like arctic birds while I run my program.”

“You have your music?” Mickey asked, letting Neathe go just a little. Yev nodded and handed his water back. “Okay, we’ll be up there,” Mickey patted his shoulder before he skated off.

Once they were seated together in the stands higher up, they settled in and waited for the other students to go through their programs.

Mickey took Neathe’s hand and Neathe rested his head on his shoulder. Maybe they kissed a little during a particularly hard to watch routine or three.

“I’m excited,” Neathe admitted when Yevgeny finally skated onto the ice.

“He’s been working hard,” Mickey said, sitting up and concentrating as the music started.

“Is this Queen?” Neathe asked, as the familiar beat played over the speakers.

Mickey snorted. He remembered his son coming to him to ask which song he should use. He’d kept it a secret until now apparently. “Under Pressure. Little ironic.”

“I like it,” Neathe sat up too, “…he looks even better from up here.”

Mickey hummed, already in coach mode. To be honest, it was mostly Svetlana that did the coaching and the carting to practice and competitions. He had missed out on a lot, but he remembered the first time he ever saw him skate. It was his first competition recorded on an iPhone and held up to the glass for him to watch. He was so beautiful, Mickey started to cry. He still got that tightness in his chest whenever he saw him floating effortlessly and totally free on the ice.

The music picked up, and Yev executed his moves perfectly and smoothly. There were some quirky moments that were totally Yev. As it built, the difficulty followed until he was going full out flying across the rink.

Mickey blinked quickly and swallowed thickly.

Neathe rubbed his back.

They both cheered too loudly when Yev landed his final jump, and hugged.

Mickey cupped Neathe’s cold face and kissed his lips, tasting chap stick and cinnamon gum. They smiled at each other. Mickey felt a scared excitement in him, like he was about to do a triple axle; take a giant leap that might break him again if he got it wrong under pressure.

But looking into those brown eyes made it feel effortless. He would be okay. He would land it. He breathed out slowly.


End file.
